Checkmate
by jadepopsicle61496
Summary: America invites Russia over to play some video games, but after several failed attempts at beating the other, Russia asks to play a game more suited to him--chess. What ensues is much more than a simple board game. RusAme.


"Your turn."

Blue eyes flicked up to meet a pair of violet ones. Maintaining the contact, hands swiftly slid a pawn onto a square directly in front of its original position.

"Your turn."

The seemingly harmless mirror movements had been going on for only seven or so minutes. Russia contemplated the wooden board before him, narrowing his eyes. When America had beaten him four straight times in Call of Duty 6 (_Which was entirely by luck _he had managed to convince himself), Russia suggested they play something that would be more up his own alley. What resulted was a strategy game--chess--a game which the tall, smiling man claimed to have never lost.

Just as Russia was about to say yet another "Your turn", America let out an almost silent sound of annoyance.

"This is making my brain hurt. Why are we playing this, I was way better at COD."

Russia's facial expression did not waver. "Was that not the point? I was obsolete at such a game, where you excelled, so I suggested we play something in which the tables would be turned. It's what you would call _fair_, yes? Isn't that what you try so valiantly to uphold, _fairness _and _justice_?" He accentuated the words in such a precise way that anyone besides the blond across from him wouldn't be able to decipher the hidden mockery.

America's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly before and eyebrow quirked up and the corners of his mouth twitched into what could be vaguely described as a smile. His hand delicately lifted a white rook and tapped Russia's black queen over the edge of the table with it. The clattering sounded piercingly loud in the thick silence that had settled over the nations.

Russia, without breaking the eye contact, stole the queen from the tile floor, setting it on the edge of the table. He surveyed the board with a cold stare before opting to slide a pawn forward.

"It seems you murdered my beloved queen. How ironic."

_Ironic? How the hell had that been. . ._ America shook his head to clear his thoughts. Russia was just trying to distract him . . . of course there wasn't any underlying meaning.

"And who would _your_ queen be, America?" Russia said with a voice dripping of poisonous honey.

"I have no idea what that's supposed to mean." he replied nonchalantly, straining to keep his eyes on the board in front of him.

"Oh, it is, perhaps, _England?"_ pressed Russia, whose lips curled away to reveal slightly pointed teeth much akin to that of a cat's.

America's blue eyes widened rage, pink burning the corners of his eyes. "What the hell are you accusing me of?"

Russia just became even more amused at his reaction, which was better than what he was hoping for. "Oh, it's all over everywhere, America and England's 'Special Relationship.' You can't surely deny it, can you?"

Alfred's jaw clenched so tight it felt like his teeth would implode, but his rage made him oblivious to such a trivial pain. "I have _no_ such feelings for England. For God's sake, he raised me, he's my _brother."_

"Not by blood."

America let out a shuddering breath, counting slowly until he calmed down enough to speak without destroying his vocal cords. "Russia, I don't have romantic feelings for _England._" He made sure to emphasize his brother's name as much as he could.

Russia's smile reverted back to its automatic position. "I believe you." Just as he was about to continue on about something, he paused briefly and gestured that it was America's turn to move a piece.

America's eyes narrowed as he grabbed a knight and slid it over roughly, nearly taking out several pieces of both colors with it.

Russia then continued his previous thought, saying, "You never answered my question about who your queen would be. You _would_ be so kind as to answer me, da?"

America's eyes unfocused, considering the question at hand. His face turned several shades of pink and red, making many exaggerated expressions. Russia giggled softly at the show America was subconsciously making, which caused America to refocus on the other's violet eyes before his face settled on a bright shade of rosy pink. Russia's giggling ceased, but his automatic smile never returned. Instead, his eyes looked directly into America's, and his lips curved into a small, but genuine, smile. One he didn't know he was capable of creating.

America's cheeks darkened another shade, before replying, "The person in question probably wouldn't let me be the king." He looked as if he hadn't said anything of great importance, but the Russian was still curious.

Russia's smile widened a considerable amount before leaning his chin in his hands. "Oh? Well, then who _is_ your king? Someone obviously large and masculine, possibly Germany?" He shifted a pawn to another square absentmindedly.

America looked appalled at the notion, picking up a knight. "Germany? Ew, no. I hardly know the guy. Get a clue, Ivan."

America's eyes widened, still not looking at the man across from him, and the knight slipped out of his hand. Russia paled several shades. _We haven't called each other by name since . . . since before. . ._

America took a steady gulp, hand shaking slightly in mid-air. He took a sharp breath of air, flushing considerably, before taking up his knight and placing it somewhere random on the board.

"Your turn." He thanked England's imaginary fairies that his voice didn't waver.

Russia's pale face flushed redder than America's as he moved his black king a space further. The bright-eyed blond across stared down at the board before letting out a small gasp, pointing at his own white queen, and then at Russia's king.

"Checkmate."

Russia stared down in bewilderment, mouth opening to curse in his native tongue. He had let his guard down and made a stupid error. Just as he was about to say something else, America added, "How ironic."

Russia stared up quizzically at the other blond. "Wha--"

"I think it should be obvious what I meant." America said, a shy smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He took his white king and placed it delicately in Russia's open hand.

Russia's eyes widened to the size of saucers before his eyelids grew heavy by an unknown force, a dull thump growing with increasing volume in his chest. His cheeks were stained a deep red color, and he found himself unable to control his body as he leaned over the ignored chess game to lay his chapped lips upon America's own.

Only a few seconds had passed before they broke apart, faces red and eyes wide. Russia placed both of his hands on either side of America's face and gently pulled him back for another kiss, before making a strange expression and slowly removing the other's glasses, placing them as softly as he could on the table, along with the white king. He then glared at the offending table for keeping them so far apart, which America took as a sign to move around to sit on one of the arms of Russia's chair. They immediately leaned towards each other for another kiss, which was soft and gentle; two words America would have never thought to be possible when describing something involving the much larger man in front of him.

Without realizing it, at one point, America had opened his mouth just a sliver, which was just enough for Russia to slip his tongue through. America tried to fight off the invading tongue, but soon gave up when it was apparent that he couldn't win. He broke away, chuckling at the face of disappointment that the Russian gave him, taking the taller man's hand and led him to a couch not four feet away.

When Russia forced America to lie down first, the bright blue eyes that looked back at him danced with a bright sparkle. "This is what I meant by the 'person in question' not letting me be the king." he murmured, letting the larger man above him nibble on his neck lightly. America bit his lip to keep from making any noises, because once he did, he knew he was telling Russia just how much he could get away with without being stopped. Which would be a lot.

America was successful with his silence, and was smug when he felt Russia was going to move from his neck back to his lips, but he was caught off guard when the man above him simultaneously bit down on his neck and rubbed the crotch of America's jeans (which he noticed had suddenly become extremely tight). The younger blond let out a soft moan that sounded suspiciously like "Ivan."

Russia smiled victoriously against the pounding heartbeat in America's neck, shifting to move both his hands to America's cheeks and to grind his hips slowly against America's. He pressed his lips down against the other man's and could hardly keep himself from giggling when he was given entrance to the other's mouth due to a particularly loud moan.

Just as America felt he was being driven crazy already, Russia slid his hand under his shirt and rolled his nipple between his fingers. America let out a shaky moan and arched upwards, to which Russia pulled away from the lip lock and looked down at the younger nation. He had never seen America like this before, and honestly, it astounded him how needy and flustered he had become. He smiled softly, and then stopped everything he was doing to lightly trace the American's side with his fingertips.

America frowned for a moment at the lack of activity he was so craving before shuddering in delight at the feeling of Russia's cold fingertips against his blazing skin. The violet-eyed man's behavior had taken a complete 180, and although it was the opposite of what America had been wanting only moments before, the whole feeling he had now was much more intimate and pleasurable.

They both sat up and just placed light kisses all along each other's bodies, Russia gliding his fingertips gently across the other's body, earning him quiet moans and shivers.

America had felt his eyelids become heavy, and soon he was struggling to fight away the blur in his eyesight. Russia noticed America's behavior and held him close to his chest, shushing him and humming sweet lullabies that filled the entire house with an air of calm. He took one last glance at the now sleeping figure, combed his fingers through the wheat-blond hair, and soon slipped into the most peaceful slumber he'd had since he was born into the world.

* * *

Thank you so much for reading this! It was my first fanfiction, second time ever writing something outside of essays for English class. Please rate and review, if you wish to do so, it would be very nice to see what people thought of it ^^


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